me down on the bed, hard.
“What…?” I started to say, but he cut me off.
“Did I tell you you could talk?”
“Uh, no,” I admitted, already slipping into the role he had, as winner of the toss, assigned to me.
“Uh, no what ?” he demanded, sliding his pants and shorts off in one motion, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Uh, no… sir !” I said as he yanked my shoes off and reached for my belt. Usually, when we played this particular game, it was I who was giving the commands. But as they say, variety….
*
As we lay in bed after our most rewarding physical therapy session, I turned to Jonathan. “This may be a truly stupid question at this stage of the game, Babe, but do Samuel and Sheryl know you’re gay?”
He laughed and rubbed his chin up and down on my shoulder (he needed a shave). “No problem. He already suspected by the time I told him I was gay. And he never seemed troubled by it.”
“Okay. Just curious.”
*
Jonathan was up by six on Sunday morning. I pretended to still be asleep and did manage to get in another half hour or so before the smell of coffee got me up. Jonathan was standing at the window, coffee cup in hand, looking down at the street.
“I don’t think they’ll be here just yet.” I think I startled him. He came quickly over to me for a morning hug, a sheepish grin on his face.
“I know. I guess I’m just a little excited about actually seeing them.”
Could’a fooled me, I thought.
We went into the kitchen for coffee for me and a refill for him. I noticed the Sunday paper on the table.
“I went down to get it.” The fact that it was on the kitchen table rather than in the living room gave me the subtle hint that our regular routine of having it scattered all over the living room as we read and exchanged sections was a “no-no” for today.
“Why don’t you read the paper while I run in and make the bed and shower?”
“I can make the bed,” I said. “You go ahead and shower.”
Making the bed was another definitely non-routine project, reserved for when company was coming.
*
By ten thirty we’d both showered, dressed—after about six changes of shirt, Jonathan chose the blue-and-white striped crew neck he’d bought in New York—had a quick breakfast, done the dishes, and I’d read most of the paper. Jonathan paced and fussed with the plants in the front window so he could keep an eye on the street. At quarter to eleven, he exclaimed, “They’re here !” and was out the front door like a shot.
Meeting the in-laws for the first time is always a little anxiety-producing, and I admit I was a little less comfortable than I’d hoped to be. He’d left the door open, and I could hear footsteps coming up the stairs. I carefully put the last section of the paper back in its proper place, folded it, and laid it on the coffee table. I got up from the couch just as the Quinlan clan entered the room.
Sheryl Quinlan was very pretty with long, straight brown hair that fell over her shoulders. She was carrying a large stuffed rabbit, the birthday present Jonathan had sent Joshua from New York. Samuel was…well, let’s just say good looks ran in the family. He was just about the same height as Jonathan, but slightly heavier. It wasn’t hard to tell that he and Jonathan were brothers, though Samuel had a certain ruggedness about him that Jonathan lacked.
And holding tightly to Sheryl’s free hand was Joshua, a three-foot-tall replica of his father, right down to the green eyes and long lashes.
Jonathan introduced us, and I shook hands all around, including Joshua, who looked at me solemnly and said, “Who are you?”
“This is Uncle Dick,” Jonathan said.
“Okay,” Joshua replied.
Samuel had brought in two suitcases and Jonathan had another, and a large open cardboard box from which several toys stuck out.
“Come on, I’ll show you your room and the rest of the place,” Jonathan said, his happiness reflected in his voice.
The four of them
“What…?” I started to say, but he cut me off.
“Did I tell you you could talk?”
“Uh, no,” I admitted, already slipping into the role he had, as winner of the toss, assigned to me.
“Uh, no what ?” he demanded, sliding his pants and shorts off in one motion, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Uh, no… sir !” I said as he yanked my shoes off and reached for my belt. Usually, when we played this particular game, it was I who was giving the commands. But as they say, variety….
*
As we lay in bed after our most rewarding physical therapy session, I turned to Jonathan. “This may be a truly stupid question at this stage of the game, Babe, but do Samuel and Sheryl know you’re gay?”
He laughed and rubbed his chin up and down on my shoulder (he needed a shave). “No problem. He already suspected by the time I told him I was gay. And he never seemed troubled by it.”
“Okay. Just curious.”
*
Jonathan was up by six on Sunday morning. I pretended to still be asleep and did manage to get in another half hour or so before the smell of coffee got me up. Jonathan was standing at the window, coffee cup in hand, looking down at the street.
“I don’t think they’ll be here just yet.” I think I startled him. He came quickly over to me for a morning hug, a sheepish grin on his face.
“I know. I guess I’m just a little excited about actually seeing them.”
Could’a fooled me, I thought.
We went into the kitchen for coffee for me and a refill for him. I noticed the Sunday paper on the table.
“I went down to get it.” The fact that it was on the kitchen table rather than in the living room gave me the subtle hint that our regular routine of having it scattered all over the living room as we read and exchanged sections was a “no-no” for today.
“Why don’t you read the paper while I run in and make the bed and shower?”
“I can make the bed,” I said. “You go ahead and shower.”
Making the bed was another definitely non-routine project, reserved for when company was coming.
*
By ten thirty we’d both showered, dressed—after about six changes of shirt, Jonathan chose the blue-and-white striped crew neck he’d bought in New York—had a quick breakfast, done the dishes, and I’d read most of the paper. Jonathan paced and fussed with the plants in the front window so he could keep an eye on the street. At quarter to eleven, he exclaimed, “They’re here !” and was out the front door like a shot.
Meeting the in-laws for the first time is always a little anxiety-producing, and I admit I was a little less comfortable than I’d hoped to be. He’d left the door open, and I could hear footsteps coming up the stairs. I carefully put the last section of the paper back in its proper place, folded it, and laid it on the coffee table. I got up from the couch just as the Quinlan clan entered the room.
Sheryl Quinlan was very pretty with long, straight brown hair that fell over her shoulders. She was carrying a large stuffed rabbit, the birthday present Jonathan had sent Joshua from New York. Samuel was…well, let’s just say good looks ran in the family. He was just about the same height as Jonathan, but slightly heavier. It wasn’t hard to tell that he and Jonathan were brothers, though Samuel had a certain ruggedness about him that Jonathan lacked.
And holding tightly to Sheryl’s free hand was Joshua, a three-foot-tall replica of his father, right down to the green eyes and long lashes.
Jonathan introduced us, and I shook hands all around, including Joshua, who looked at me solemnly and said, “Who are you?”
“This is Uncle Dick,” Jonathan said.
“Okay,” Joshua replied.
Samuel had brought in two suitcases and Jonathan had another, and a large open cardboard box from which several toys stuck out.
“Come on, I’ll show you your room and the rest of the place,” Jonathan said, his happiness reflected in his voice.
The four of them
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